Seek
by Ash Gray Kitsune
Summary: Grand Kiltias Anastasis left a great deal for his followers to work through after his death. A hunt through the Mist was one such thing, though it was not his followers, but a certain sky-pirate who took up the call...


**Disclaimer: I do not own FFXII...but I do own Madeleine, Revanel, and a few others that'll end up popping up later on.**

_Seek_

_-wings beating a silent rhythm, heralding the draconian's-_

_-lost is the child of ages, born of man's chaos-_

_-what you seek is not what you will find, daughter of the Dreamer-_

Madeleine Dhist woke. Tired, dark-ringed eyes, bleached a hazy, quiet gray by long hours searching the Mist's too bright horizons, stared up at the yellowing plaster, tracing the cracks in the ceiling by memory more than sight. Her vision was bad; she relied heavily on her other senses to give her what her eyes could not. But the images still within her mind, mere remnants from a dream far greater, burned behind her irises, but only as pale shadows, and their fading proved only that they existed, and only to her. Once again, the seeking had failed. As she had known it would, and had advised the impatient man who had come of its likely conclusion. However, he had insisted that she alone could do what he wanted; that in itself was a foolish, and asinine thought. He would not be pleased with this revelation.

"Bells..." She murmured softly, drawing one hand up over her eyes and sighing. "Bells, he asks for...At least in that regard, he will be pleased." Her free hand uncurled slowly, and three tiny bells, one copper, one silver, and one gold, shimmered out onto the sheet, tinkling merrily as any child's trinket might. As innocous as they looked, any scholar of the mysteries left behind after the explosion of the Sun-Cryst at the Pharos at Ridorana would immediately recognize their worth, torn as they were from a rare High Reaver's breastplate. They had been one of her more difficult seekings, and had required almost a week of powerful spells to keep her body in total stasis. Madeleine sat up carefully, but still with difficulty, feeling the muscles in her back burn all the way up from the base of her spine. Such work came at a heavy price..."Damn..." Came a rough hiss, and the figure in the far corner of her room, shrouded in silence and shadow, stirred at last.

"Do you require aid, Mistress?" The voice was darkness incarnate, a husky rumble that usually sent involuntary shivers across her skin; now, it was merely worried, soft as so not to startle her too much.

"Please..." She replied, her voice growing weak as her head drooped down of its own accord. She braced it on her upright knee, closing her eyes to allow the nausea a chance to pass without medication. He would be quite upset with her for a while after this, not in the least of which because he had been the one to cast the spells. A long slender body detached itself from the darkness and walked over to her, settling himself on her bed with an easy grace, legs crossing almost delicately at the knee. Long hair, the inky-black of a raven's wing, lay in one simple braid wrapped about his throat and shoulders, forming a strange collar to a stranger outfit. He was dressed neatly in a simple Kiltias uniform, all blues and faint hints of red and gray. Elegant black boots completed the ensemble, and the face whose dark green eyes stared deep into her own was rightfully proud and haughty, handsome, but almost untouchable. Thin lips curved downwards into a quiet frown at her condition, though, and he clucked his tongue, reaching over to pull a blanket over her shoulders and tucking it into her hands.

"You drive yourself too hard, my lady. You will be unable to seek any new dreams for several weeks due to this man." She smiled a tiny bit at the heat in the shade's voice; despite their differences, and considerable aversion to one another on a usual basis, she still found that the creature did not tolerate the gross misuse of her abilities. It was a comforting fact, and she reached out, carefully taking one of his hands to steady herself. His fingers closed around hers without a second breath, and Madeleine raised her eyes enough to meet his. Despite the fact that Archadia would consider him less than a slave, the same as it considered viera, bangaa, seeq, and moogles animals with no intelligence, here in Rabanastre, in the soft-lit recesses of Lowtown, he held a certain respect, largely due to his fighting and magickal abilities. Behind those green eyes lay a cunning mind...she smiled at their veiled anger.

"I know, Revanel. If it were not for the importance of all of this, I would have asked for a sleeping draught long ago. But I cannot merely let this lie; there are a thousand and one mistakes that can be made, and one right path. I need to find that path, and find the other answers he requires. We're a dying breed anyway, but with the recent upheavals in the world's economics and society, you and I cannot afford to turn down the House of Solidor...But you are right. There is no way on Gaia's blessed earth that I can seek again tonight. Not without a great deal of alcohol or a hallucinigen to get me past the gates."

"...The gates are shutting you out?"

"And more...I have a few words that I managed to retain. They're very fragmented, and unusually obtuse, even for the Mist."

"Say them. Perhaps we can guess their meaning in the waking world."

"Will you write them down? That way, we need not worry about memories failing us." He snorted, very softly, but obliged her, reaching for the well-worn pad and pen sitting on her bedside table as she managed to push herself back into an upright sitting position, shaggy spikes of dulled brown hair fluffing out in the drafts from the window. She took a deep breath, and let her head fall back, drawing the words out of her subconcious slowly, carefully. "Wings beating a silent rhythm, heralding the draconian's...lost is the child of ages, born of man's chaos...what you seek is not what you will find, daughter of the Dreamer." As she spoke, listening distantly to the soft scratch of pen on paper, she found herself wondering about the meaning of the last phrase. The first two clearly referred to two of her previous cases; the first regarded the terrible inhabitation of the monsters in the now late Kingdom of Nabradia, while the second paid homage to a prophetic musing torn to pieces by a very insane researcher on the hunt for a solid answer. But the third had no bearing on any such thing as a mere case...in fact, the reference to both her method of searching and her guardian bothered her immensely.

But now Revanel had finished his copying, and his dark eyes narrowed, clearly coming to came conclusion as she. He sat back, drawing the shadows that usually enveloped him a little tighter; Madeleine noticed that the normal darkness of the room seemed to gather around him. It was a strange trick, to be sure, but it did make their flat a great deal brighter. The thin, watery light of the fire-stone lamp outside shone through their lone window, and for a change, she could actually make out the furnishings of the room. She had just finished taking a silent inventory, replacing the old images in her mind when he spoke.

"My lady Madeleine...You are, I presume, suitably concerned about this?"

"Of course...To hear talk of the Dreamer, outside of the Mist entirely, is disturbing; to hear it within is almost too terrifying to bear. After our transcendance to the outer world from Giruvegan, there should have been nothing left of the Dreamer; its body was destroyed, that much I know. We, despite our many differences, followed our master's wishes to the letter. But if the mind survived...and with the Grand Kiltias now dead..."

"Then we have a clear course to follow of our own, am I correct?"

"You may as well be. But for now, we can but only put the matter from our minds; I am too weak to seek, and you cannot protect us both should we be trapped within the Mist."

"Of course, my lady...shall I contact Larsa Solidor and offer him our most recent findings, and ask him for a little time to allow for your body's restoration?"

"If you would be so kind. I am not strong enough to do so for myself, and to that end, I offer an apology. You do so much..."

"My lady, you need not apologize. I am your servant; you saved me from oblivion, nursed me to health, and gave me a vocation so that I might aide my own brethren. Despite our differences..." He smiled, thin as a sickle, and gave her hand a squeeze, drawing a faint smile from her as well. "I would not ask for another employer. Now rest; daybreak comes soon, and I'm afraid that our small flat is not well-suited for a nocturnal being. I will take you to Old Dalan as soon as we are absolved of the bells." She nodded, and drifted towards the rear wall, leaning heavily against the cool stone as she listened to the shade move around the room. Her eyelids drifted closed, and as her body relaxed into a restful, dreamless sleep, she allowed the question that had plagued her since the young Solidor's coming rise to the surface...Why had he been so adamant that she be the one?

"Here ye are, lad."

"My thanks, Migelo. And the cost?"

"Ah, jus' pay me when ye can. I'll not see yer young mistress worse off than she already is."

"You have my gratitude again. I'll be sure to hand our payment to Kytes once the customer pays his second half. Speaking of which, have you heard from your young sky pirates?"

"That I have! Vaan's been a right terror, apparently, over in Jylland; Penelo says they've switched clans for a short while to enjoy a break from theft."

"Ah, the joy of youth...Well, I'm afraid I must be off, my friend. My lady waits at Old Dalan's house."

"Yes, yes...give her my warmest regards, Revanel." The shade bowed low, and left the shop with his large carryall, shifting it carefully to avoid cracking or breaking any of the large draughts and potions. He could ill afford to lose even a single one; Madeleine relied heavily on their restorative effects to keep her thin, pale form in a healthy enough condition to keep up on her work. The sheer amounts of Mist that she was exposed to in the dream-state and outside of it had taken a terrible toll on her...His eyes flashed, and he ducked his head as he made his way down the Lowtown stairwell. Despite his kind's general anger and distrust of the hume race, Revanel truly hated to see the woman he called mistress worn down so badly, and at such a young age. She was newly eighteen summers; to see her out of the corner of the eye, one would think her a child. He blessed the shadowy depths of Rabanastre's under-city, and hid his rage in a mask of quiet unemotion as he walked, long legs tugging whisps of gray shadow along as he made his way down to the South Sprawl. Besides...he had company not too far behind him.

His followers were quite unobtrussive, he had to admit; the sky-pirate certainly knew his way around the under-city, and judging from the lack of loud acknowledgement, was familiar enough with the local folk to slip aside and avoid conversation. But he was no shade, and Revanel allowed a tiny smile to touch his face. He closed his eyes, and allowed the darkness to veil his entire body, becoming little more than a wraith to slide through the deep shadows. He reappeared outside of their tiny hovel, and let himself in, locking the door securely behind him before making his way down the hall to the front room. There stood a sink and lone counter, with a few shelves to hold their supplies. He settled the carryall on the counter, and began unpacking, rotating bottles and packages so that the oldest were within easy reach. The back room's door opened behind him, and a small form made her way over the worn slate floors.

"I had assumed you to be at Dalan's...I was about to come get you."

"Kytes brought me home early; there were a few rabblerousers who came to visit him, and he felt that my being there would likely be the source of a disturbance. I agreed, and he asked the children to help me back."

"Then I am thankful that they are so kind to you. Are you hungry?" A soft laugh, and she leaned close, propped against the sink's metal edge.

"You know that I'll never deny food, Revanel. Especially not yours. How was Migelo?"

"A little lonesome. He misses the children he has raised, especially when they've left the nest for far-off parts of the world. He sends his regards, however, and is allowing us to pay when we are paid. What would you care to have for dinner?"

"The poor old dear...he's so kind to us. I think that a simple noodle dish would be wise tonight, for myself at least. Kytes was kind enough to leave a behemoth steak for you, courtesy of Old Dalan; it's resting in the icebox." He nodded, and moved to the shelf that held their meager foodstuffs, taking down the small canvas bag of ruffled noodles. There were mushrooms in the icebox as well, and a little flour leftover that he could use as a sauce. As he lit the small parafin stove and set a pot of water on to boil, Revanel caught the young woman's eye. Madeleine's gaze was far away, lost in the recesses of her mind, her gray eyes clouded over, just like any other creature kept too long from the sun. Her body, frail underneath the simple blouse and loose pants, nevertheless moved with relative ease; she still had strength. He paused in his work, and pulled from his pocket a thin bar, wrapped neatly in paper, and handed it to her.

"What is this?" He simply smiled, a thin line that most other folk would never see as such. She knew better, and her eyes lit up at the silent gesture.

"It is a present for all of your recent forays. I believe hume society requires that you accept without argument." She laughed again, and untied the string, pulling the paper away to reveal a bar of solid chocolate, a creamy brown that made her mouth water just glancing at it. Her eyes widened and she stared up at him, mouth working in surprise before she could finally find her voice.

"Revanel..."

"It was inexpensive, and Migelo was more than willing to trade a few gil for one of trinkets I snatched from those beasts coming up from the Garamsythe. Think of it as a reward for undertaking such a quest; most people, even those as professional as you yourself are, would not be able to do so much with so little. You have earned a respite." She nodded, suddenly subdued, and he closed her hands around the bar, his voice low and soft. "You are a good person, Madeleine; put your fears to rest for now, and heal yourself. Tomorrow, we shall start our quest...but that is tomorrow. Eat, then sleep, then I will wake you." She searched his eyes for a moment, then her body relaxed, lips curving up in a faint grin.

"Who could deny a request like that?"

**It's the first FFXII fic! I'm excited!**


End file.
